


Aeternus

by Walor



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Green Lantern - All Media Types, Kid Eternity (Comics), Shazam! | Captain Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Lantern Training, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walor/pseuds/Walor
Summary: Eternity: (noun) endless life after death.





	Aeternus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thrakaboom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrakaboom/gifts).



> A commission for thrakaboom! Wanted a story with Kit being a black and white lantern and being trained by the ever-exasperated Kyle. It was fun to explore characters I've never written before and the strangeness of possessing two completely opposite rings.

_Replacement found._ _  
_ _  
_ That can’t be right. The white ring floats inches above Kyle’s finger, burning star-bright and glimmering in the dark void of space around him. The decision to remove the ring and leave the universe without a White Lantern until it found some other do-gooder is still fresh at the forefront of his mind. Guilt, that’s for damn sure, still twists in his stomach even as confusion snakes out to take its place. The ring has found another, within minutes. Something’s not right.  
  
It speeds off. Faster than a jet, fiery trails of white flame shooting behind as it races past stars and galaxies.  
  
Kyle stares at it, what else can he do in the sudden avalanche of questioning _what the hell,_ hits him. Watches it become nothing more than a pinprick of light in a black sea before shooting off after it. Can only imagine what he’d say to the Guardians, let alone _Hal,_ if he let it go. _Oh yeah, the ring found a replacement. Who? I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to watch._ Can already feel the phantom sting of Hal’s cuff to his ear and the audience of big, droopy, blue frowns. That’s after the scolding he’d receive for even deciding to relinquish the white ring.  
  
Yeah, that would be one way to spend a glorious afternoon before Kilowog finished him with drills until he dropped. Jeez. This is not the kind of retirement party he wanted for ending his tenure as the universe’s only White Lantern.  
  
_Former only White Lantern._ Maybe, just maybe, the ring has been waiting for this chance to go to the proper owner all this time. Although those kinda odds are as impractical as walking out of a bar and having an alien give you an all-powerful ring. Lightning shouldn’t strike twice, but Kyle’s been the exception to that rule about a dozen times over. Better, though, that it works out in this case by going to the one person that actually knows the best way to use it. That’s going to be one hell of a meeting.  
  
Then again, the first person to ever wield a white ring had been Sinestro. That’s certainly _one_ master that might be at the other end of the ring’s destination. With his luck, it’s practically a guarantee. _Oh please, don’t let it be pink Stalin._ _  
_ _  
_ It’s not. In fact, Kyle feels bad he made a joke at all.  
  
Kyle finds the wielder in the shadow of Earth’s moon. A little above the chalky white surface, curled up in a tight ball, surrounded by glittering droplets of floating water. Tears, they’re tears of course. The kid is hardly tall enough to reach above Kyle’s waist standing. Something he finds out later, once he coaxes them out of the tight ball they’ve curled into, knees tight against his chest.  
  
It’s a child. Barely past his twelfth birthday--another terrible fact he discovers later--with dark brown hair, light hazel eyes, and tanned skin that looks too purple with the prominent veins that stand out in the darkness. Doesn’t even hear Kyle approach, hands tucked tight against his chest as he whimpers desperate pleas under his breath.  
  
“Won’t come off. Gotta get them off, hurts so much, _can’t breathe_ \--”  
  
Even without the ring’s translator, Kyle hears the rolling accent of Downeast accented-English. Doesn’t even know Kyle’s there yet, too busy tugging at his right hand where the white ring burns bright as fire. His entire arm is engulfed in bright, blinding light. It’s such an intense reaction from a ring against their owner he ends up just staring at the light rather getting closer. Was it always this way for White Lanterns? Doesn’t remember the same thing happening to him that’s for sure.  
  
A dark, chilling shudder rolls over Kyle as a low thrumming pulse. It-- No. There’s no way.  
  
Kyle’s heart stops when he finally glances at his left hand.  
  
The entire arm is a sickly, pale grey. Gaunt muscle barely clinging to the bones sways in open space, his skeletal fingers smoking every time they come in contact with the white ring. The kid hisses from the burn, more tears bubbling off his cheek and floating away around him. Can’t see how far either affliction goes up his body from the dark leather cuffs of his jacket, but with the panicking that already consumes him, it won’t be long until the warring rings devour him altogether. It certainly isn’t that rare of an occurrence.  
  
_A Black Lantern Ring, how is that possible?_ The only person still in possession of a black ring was supposed to be Black Hand, all others were destroyed. All but one, apparently. Being the wielder of two rings was rare, but not unheard of. Guy had done it practically dozens of times, but a white and _black_ ring? Guy’s combined red and violet are starting to make a lot more sense. He’d been practically feral then, there’s no telling how life and death are twisting the mental scape of the child holding both.  
  
It’s dangerous to approach him even now. One stray flick of power could vaporize him into a pile of scorching atoms if thrown his way. Kyle does so anyway.  
  
Floats forward a few feet before he is assaulted by dueling waves of power, one as hot as a solar flare, the other so cold his breath comes out in visible puffs. There’s something more. An invisible wave that pushes him back, like a hammer pounding against his chest that grows every inch he gets closer. Swears he hears his ribs groan when he’s close enough to feel the cold tears brush against his cheek as he reaches out.  
  
The kid startles, power quite suddenly blowing out, leaving them only illuminated by the soft green glow of Kyle’s ring. The bright white light fades from the boy’s skin, slipping down into his veins the same time color and flesh return to his other arm. Kyle sighs, shoulders dropping for now.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Kyle says when the kid begins to sniffle again, eyes pink and watery. “You’re okay. _You’re okay_ .”  
  
It’s the truest words he’s ever spoken.  
_  
_

* * *

  
“Have you thought of teachin’ him how to manipulate his uniform construct?” 

“No. Why would I teach him that?”  
  
“I guess I thought you’d try and help him look a bit less like an Oreo cookie.”  
  
“That’s not true,” _it is so true._ “The color scheme for the rings are black and white. It’s not like he can look any different considering. Besides, when it comes to making sure one of those rings doesn’t fry off one half of his body, I think looking like a cookie is hardly the problem.”  
  
“He’s eleven, lookin’ cool in public is probably on the top of his priority list. Maybe when he reaches eighteen you can focus more on the world protection stuff.”  
  
“You didn’t seem to mind flying around looking like a Christmas Hallmark card with the red and green rings were in your possession.” A pause. “And he’s twelve. Not eleven.”  
  
“See, but that’s your mistake because I hated it so much when Christmas actually came around I was physically ill with disgust.”  
  
Kyle finally glances away from Kit, who’s spent the last two hours forming and holding different shapes and sizes of constructs. He’d brought Kit to Oa about a week ago, right down to the hour after he found him floating in space. The Guardians didn’t approve--when did they ever--about having a Black Lantern so close to base even with Kyle planning to train him. They asked for another lantern, Kyle told them his second choice. He’s pretty sure he’s lost his good standing with the guardians.  
  
Beside him Guy grumbles, arms crossed over his chest and a curious arched brow directed at him.  
  
“It’s true,” Guy tells him in a firmer voice. “I was so repulsed by mistletoe and holly decorations with Santa all in red under a big green tree that I vacationed on Qward just for a change of scenery.”  
  
Kyle quirks a brow. “You were kidnapped.”  
  
Guy frowns, huffing a deep breath as he glances back at the training ring. Kit’s holding the construct of a ship now, dipping and bobbing along with unseen waves. It’s a rather big ship, a fishing boat maybe, like the ones Kyle used to see off the coast in Dana Point or Long Beach.  
  
“Which brings up a good point,” Guy says after a moment. “This kid? Prime kidnapping material.”  
  
“Kit is not going to get kidnapped.” Who would be stupid enough to go after someone, even as young as Kit, with both a black and white ring? Barring Sinestro, who makes bad decisions a top priority at this time of year. Hiding in shame on Qward after Hal’s most recent dismantling of Sinestro latest scheme.  
  
“He follows you everywhere. They’re going to take one look at him and it’s going to be like Robin with Bats. Unless that’s the whole point of draggin’ him along.” Guy purses his lips and tucks his arms tighter against his chest. “And if you’re gonna go down that line I’ll be the first person to tell you _no.”_  
  
It’s hard to think of any reappearing nuisance to the corps that would stoop so low. Also, as if Kyle would take Kit anywhere near an actual warzone, let alone a dingy bar. He’s not _that_ much of a bastard. “No one’s going to kidnap a child.”  
  
Guy stares at him. One minute passes, then another, each punctuated by deliberate blinks. “Do you want me to repeat how stupid that was or should I?”  
  
“I don’t think--”  
  
“You’re both stupid.” Kit’s gaze drifts away from the boat. Floats over to them, at least a few feet off the ground, staring each of them in the eye. Hardly looks winded by the exercise, which is a little redundant of a comparison considering the entire _Black Lantern_ thing. “I have two rings, I don’t think even the _big_ bad guys will come after me.”  
  
“Two rings that you don’t know how to _control.”_ Guy glances at the construct boat. It’s still holding up relatively well, even with the lack of concentration. He’s taken to it a bit more naturally than Kyle did when he started, but Kit didn’t have the only other Lantern running around trying to take his ring.  
  
And kill him. That sure put a damper on the entire “mentor-student” relationship he and Jordan could have had.  
  
“I don’t even need the rings.” Kit’s face falls. Bottom lip sticking out, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Great, _Kicked Puppy Look_ is out in full force now. _Be strong, Rayner, be strong._ “They’re just decorations.”  
  
“Some pretty powerful decorations if you ask me. And don’t give me that look, plenty of kids have tried, none have succeeded.” Guy fixes Kit with a stern glare, the same one he probably gave to his students. It just oozes, _“don’t you fuck with me, kid, I’m already dead inside and get paid nickles.”_ Maybe Guy should have been Kit’s mentor from the get-go.  
  
“It’s better than throwing glowing green footballs at someone’s head.” Kit glowers. “At least I can use my imagination.” Oh good. That’s all they need, a verbal throwdown between a child and an adult. Perfect.  
  
That has to be the reason that Kyle doesn’t stop it when it happens: exasperation with the two most stubborn people he’s ever met. He couldn’t have known how quickly Kit’s emotions affected the stability and manipulation of his construct.  
  
The boat begins to wobble violently. Black ooze snakes out of Kit’s back, rising into the air the moment it gets free from his body. There it becomes gaseous, forming into ominous little black clouds that roll towards the white boat. Tar-like drops fall from the clouds onto the boat or splash on the dirt in thick, muddy smears. None of them turn to watch it.  
  
Kyle, in fact, is trying to intervene at that point. The keyword there is “trying.” “Listen, you two--”  
  
“I think being able to bring people to life is pretty nifty,” Kit mumbles. “More useful than a glowing green replica of yourself.”  
  
“There’s nothing amazing about bringing a rotting corpse of George Washington into existence by saying the word _eternity--”_  
  
Guy goes on. Kyle watches the tense line of his jaw harden. It’s too late when Kyle finally notices. Watches Kit’s skin turn that terrible shade of gray as it races up his fingers along the roads of his veins, spreading across the hollowed cheeks of his now skull-like face from the pulsing black aura of his left ring.  
  
He reaches his hand out, fingers brushing just slightly against Kit’s shoulder. “ _Kit--”_  
  
The massive boat construct slams into them.  
  
Guy goes flying, hitting the massive stone wall of the corps barracks behind them while Kyle only manages to form a fluffy green mattress construct at the last second. Kit, on the other hand, goes tumbling off the steps, smacking his head against the rough ground with a sickening thump.  
  
Logically, Kyle knows that whatever damage Kit takes will not be fatal. In fact, whatever injuries he receives probably won’t last long enough for him to even feel the aching pain of it. The white lantern rings flashes on his finger, a bright light illuminating the network of veins below his skin, already repairing the damage. That, however, doesn’t reassure his panic, nor does it stop his heart from leaping into his throat.  
  
Above them, the boat shatters into a million glittering pieces. The black clouds dissipate even faster, leaving only a bright, brilliant blue sky in their wake.  
  
“Kid-- Hey, Kit!” Guy’s at Kit’s side first, amazingly. Shrugs off what must be a minor concussion -- scratch that, a major one, to kneel at Kit’s side.  
  
“I didn’t...” Kit’s cheeks are a bright, lively pink again, filled out and flushed red as Guy brings him to his feet. His hands won’t stop shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“I know.” Kyle rolls onto his side and pushes himself up. Though the construct is gone, his nose and throat burn. Tastes saltwater thick on his tongue and swallows it away. “Lasted longer this time. I’m proud of you.”  
  
Kit gives a hesitant and quiet smile, crossing his arms over his chest, keeping his left arm tucked especially tight. “Thanks.”  
  
The smile on Guy’s face is drawn tight and pinched at the edges. He ruffles Kit’s hair and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Yeah, I think that’s enough practice for today.”  
  
Kit’s shoulders drop, bright eyes turning sullen as he kicks the dirt. “It was an accident, I can do better this time. Watch.”  
  
He looks up at Kyle with those big, hazel eyes, and wow, he gets it now. How hard it is to resist saying no to a kid, especially one as passionate to learn as Kit is. It calls out to the new teacher in him, so proud of his excelling student. He’s debating whether or not a three-hour break would be well enough for Kit to try again, maybe this time actually practicing with his temporary resurrection powers, until Guy throws Kit over his shoulder.  
  
“No buts, kid.”  


* * *

It’s kind of a startling realization, the moment Kyle realizes there is going to have to be an awkward talk between him and Kit.

He wishes it were simple. Would give anything for it to be one of those cringe-worthy health talks about the changing body. Guy’s done plenty of those. Could probably pass the task off to him if he really felt the need to (so long as Guy promised not to take advantage and be a real jackass). Hell, Kyle would take that over this. 

Kit has a black ring. Doesn’t take a genius to know how to get one. 

Kyle’s not sure if the kid knows it yet. Barely managed to tell Kyle his name within the first several hours of meeting him. His memories are a jumbled mess of dead ends and empty pits that stink of saltwater and ozone. J’onn’s diagnosis, of course; they had to be sure Kit, even as scared and disoriented as he had been, was without ill intent. One mind sweep later and J’onn was surprised he had the capacity to remember his own name. Apparently, dead bodies also have dead minds, which means no memories in, technically, electric pulses to activate the nerves in his brain that possess his memories. The more you know.  
  
Even more pressing than that, no one likes finding out a child’s died. Worse is having a kid come back as a universal-light possessed “not zombie.”

“I just wouldn’t tell him,” is Hal’s input on the situation. “He’s been doing fine.”

Although as the reigning king of emotional avoidance, Kyle takes the advice with a grain of salt. Kit is smart in his own right. If he’s not practicing honing his powers, he’s in Oa’s vast and extensive library, reading books in alien languages without the help of his rings to translate. Probably shouldn’t have told Kit the best way to slip past Salaak, didn’t realize Kit would use it to break into the Guardians’ personal--and extremely forbidden--library. Kit will put two and two together if he hasn’t already.

“I would take a million parent-teacher conferences over this,” Guy says after Kyle tells him how he plans to break the news to Kit. “Shit sucks.”

“Yeah, well, keeping secrets never helped anyone. Better he hears it from me than a nightmare or Sinestro’s corpsmen. Even with all the fear training we’ve put him through.” A well trained Sinestro Corps member only needs a thread of worry to draw out someone’s fear. Kit’s been with them for all of three weeks. Natural or not, and the kid is admittedly good, the yellow ring is still a force to be reckoned with, even against the combined forces of white and black.  
  
“That’s your decision, I’m staying one hundred percent out of this. No, thanks. If there’s anything worse than telling a kid about their reproductive future, it’s telling them they’re a zombie.”  
  
Which is true. It’s not often he, or anyone else for that matter, has been forced to play the proverbial angel at the pearly gates above. Hopes he never ends up having to do it again. Once is more than enough.  


* * *

The two of them find Kit not in training with one of the Corps drill instructors, but on the roof of the Corps headquarters. Above them is the blue and emerald sky of Oa. White, puffy clouds spread out in sparse little chunks under Oa’s two distant suns. Closer, though, is Kilowog, hovering miles above them with the newest group of Lantern recruits running drills in the stratosphere, ducking and diving over flashing green blasts. If Kyle listens hard enough, he can hear Kilowog’s booming voice shouting insults at the rookies until he finds a favorite that sticks.  
  
Kyle floats down, standing beside Kit, his shadow falling across his face. Guy being, well, _Guy,_ stops with his feet on either side of Kit’s head, bending at the waist to look him straight in the eye. Kit doesn’t move to stand up, lying on his back with his hands tucked beneath his head.  
  
“Want to tell us why you aren’t up there?”  
  
Kit looks at Guy, then Kyle then yawns loudly. “We don’t have the same rings.”  
  
“That doesn’t matter, the lessons are still important.” Kyle looks over at Guy. He gives Kyle a little nod and a thumbs up. “You need all the practice you can get.”  
  
Of course, one could argue that practice for Kit comes with, well, an asterisk at the end of it. There’s not a lot of reasoning as to why Kit would even have to learn what to do in a no-win-certain-death situation. All Lanterns go through that training, it’s the final test before graduation. Kyle, though he took his test much later after facing the wrath of Parallax, had nightmares weeks later. Kit doesn’t have death to fear. The Black Lantern ring is the universal get out of Hell free card.  
  
Even without the possible knowledge of his previous demise, Kit seems pretty blasé when Kyle or Guy warn him about his possible, though improbable, death in the field.  
  
“Sure,” Kit yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “Got it. Practice more. Heard that from you two before.”  
  
“He means now, kid. Kilowog always has room.” Guy toes him with his boot. That gets a bit more of a reaction. Kit opens his eyes to glare up at them before rolling onto his side.  
  
“Two of the most powerful rings in the entire universe,” Kit grumbles. “But I get to listen to you two nag me for all _eternity_ \--”  
  
_Thoom._ _  
_ _  
_ A crack of lightning splits the clear sky. It’s so bright Kyle’s eyes burn and closing them quickly only brings hazy spots to his tearing eyes. Guy yelps beside him, but it’s lost under the rolling boom of thunder overhead. Oa doesn’t have storms, let alone _thunder_ storms. There is only one thing that would bring a crackle of lightning to Oa’s surface.  
  
_You have got to be kidding me._  
  
Blinking away the light and tears, Kyle squints at first, the world slowly fading back into color. Shapes, still slightly blurry, begin to focus and stabilize the wider he opens his eyes. When Kyle finally manages to blink away the remaining haze, he finds himself groaning. Nothing, it seems, can ever go perfectly normal with Kit Freeman.  
  
Standing next to Kit, flushing a bright, embarrassed red, is a rotting corpse. Her skin is gray, falling away in sections to reveal the stark white bones beneath the disintegrating muscle. Wispy hair frames the prominent bones of her face, pulled back into a bun with a number of rusty bobby pins. Upon her body is what might have formerly been a cream blouse, stained with grave dirt among other things, tucked into a torn-up pencil skirt. In one hand she holds a large meter stick, and on her face, a pair of cat-eye glasses.  
  
The corpse stands between the three of them, straight as the ruler in her hand as her eyeless sockets slowly gaze over them. A leathery hiss slips between her exposed teeth.  
  
She raises the meter stick and brings it down on Guy’s head.  
  
“Gardner!” her screechy voice snarls. “I told you to keep your head down and study, and look what you’ve done with your life, _you idiot boy._ ”  


* * *

  
  
The corpse doesn’t like being called a corpse, or a zombie for that matter.  
  
“I didn’t mean-- Ow!” Kyle holds up his hands to defend his aching head, but that only spurns her on even more. “I didn’t mean it like that!”  
  
Her name is Mrs. Jameson, and she’s eighty-three years old--or eighty-two, given that she died of a heart attack in her English class on her birthday--and she’s Guy’s old middle school teacher. She might also be the former world record holder for the most irritating voice in the known universe. Turns out she’s pretty pissed about being dead, but she’s even angrier that out of all the people she’d see returning to life in a less-than-fresh body, what she sees is one of her least favorite students.  
  
“Of all people! I would have taken President James Carter over you. And I see you still haven’t learned to cut your own hair, typical.”  
  
She’s the worst. Literally. Kyle didn’t know there was worse than Sinestro, Hand, or even a Parallax-possessed Hal Jordan, but she takes the cake. Guy ends up taking the brunt of her bitching, hands raised with quiet snarls in response to whatever comment leaves her lipless mouth.  
  
“You know you can’t just summon someone whenever you want.” Kyle tries to focus on reprimanding Kit, rather than aiding--or watching--Guy’s assault. “Especially against another Lantern.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t mean to.” Kit doesn’t sound all that contrite. He watches Mrs. Jameson move, fluid and purposeful as if she still had all the muscles in her body to do so. Eyes wide with amazement; not terror-induced confusion that’s borderline hysterical. Genuine _amazement_ . They better not have another William Hand in the making. They hardly need the one. “It just slipped out.”  
  
Admittedly, it’s kind of interesting watching the summoned person in front of them. Mrs. Jameson isn’t acting like Hand’s puppets during the siege during _blackest night._ She even gave Kit a swat when he called her gross. Hand’s formerly deceased “Corps” were no better than Hollywood zombies capable of _some_ speech. With the exception of her appearance, she may very well be human. “Next time you want to snap something witty back, try and avoid the word ‘eternity.’ You know what happens.”  
  
Kit rolls his eyes and tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. “Did…..Could Black Hand summon people by using a word?”  
  
Now that certainly is a question. The memories of blackest night are tucked away in some of the darkest portions of Kyle’s mind. The fear of it all, the haunting faces of those they couldn’t save forced into Hand’s service, still troubles most of the human lanterns. He remembers Alex, black ring on her finger, dragging Kyle closer to her rotting body, barely held together with a crumbling smile.  
  
_Look, I have a ring now, lover. We can finally be together for all eternity._  
  
A shudder runs down his spine. A soft, distant, girlish laugh echoes somewhere beyond where they all stand. Kyle watches Mrs. Jameson raise up the stick again. Her bony fingers are covered in strips of leathery skin and shrunken veins. There is no ring. “No, but they needed a ring in order to ‘live.’ This one doesn’t.”  
  
Kit scoffs. “So, not only do I have two rings, but I get the new and improved version without a manual. Alrighty, sounds like my type of bad luck.”  
  
“I don’t know, you could have been stuck with a red and violet ring and turn into a feral mess of a Lantern.”  
  
“I heard that you asshole,” Guy snaps right before Mrs. Jameson cracks the meter stick against his defenseless rear.  


* * *

  
It’s ironic. Has to be. Kyle remembers a late-night, lying beneath the stars with Donna, Jason, and Bob, staring up at the strange-yet-similar constellations in the sky of Earth 1355. Between the four of them was the soft, dimming light of the bonfire as its smoke coiled up into the dark sky.  
  
“We all shouldn’t be here,” Jason had said after a long moment. “But we are. Cosmic mistakes, the lot of us. What a fuckin’ joke.”  
  
Kyle never thought his fate of being the last Green Lantern during Parallax’s reign was luck. At first, maybe, when the ring was just something he used for fun. Before all the hero work, before the Justice League, before Clifford Zmeck. Even after all the work he’s done earning his place among the Green Lantern Corps, Kyle still holds to one single, simple truth. His selection, in contrast to everyone else’s, was a mistake. It is only through hard work did he become more than another fault on the list of the Guardians’ many.  
  
It makes sense. More than a little, that the newest cosmic error would come under Kyle’s charge.  
  
“I don’t think you’re a mistake.”  
  
The stars in the dark Oan sky are colored a diluted green from the planet’s atmosphere. Kyle can make out several nebulas millions of star years away, thousands upon thousands of galaxies twisting around their suns dotting the dark ocean of sky. It’s a little chilly out and Kyle tugs his glowing jacket tighter around his shoulders.  
  
“I don’t mean it as a negative, Kit. It’s okay being a mistake.”  
  
Kit huffs next to him. His jacket is zipped up tight around him, chin tucked beneath the collar as he glances down at his feet, mouth in a tight pout. “I don’t think that makes a lot of sense.”  
  
Kyle considers this. “Took me a long time to come to terms with it myself. I was a nobody. An artist, no combat training in my life, and I was given the ring. Not because I had the will, not because the ring found me more qualified than millions of others. But because Ganthet teleported to a random location to hide a ring.”  
  
“Right place, right time; that saying exists for a reason, you know.”  
  
“Wrong place, wrong time does, too.” Kyle glances away from the sky to face Kit. “You refuse to train with anyone besides me or Guy. When we tried to set you up in the barracks with the rest of the Lanterns too young to serve, you snuck out and slept in the _Warrior’s_ attic until Guy set up a guest bedroom inside his own room. Why?”  
  
Kyle assumes it’s out of embarrassment and shame. Wasn’t too long ago he avoided Oa as if he’d be struck down just by walking across its surface for existing. Assumed he didn’t belong because he wasn’t like the other Lanterns. Kit is not like the others either.  
  
Kit plucks at the threads on his jacket. One comes loose, a little, shadowy tendril that curls around Kit’s finger of its own accord. “Like mentor-slash-stand-in-father, I guess.”  
  
A moment of quiet passes as Kyle blinks several times in slow succession. “What?”  
  
“I told you, I’m not dumb.” Kit lets go of the thread. It curls back into his jacket, nestling itself into its proper place. “Whatever you think you’re protecting me from, you don’t have to. I know I’m dead.”  
  
Kyle’s shoulders drop slightly and he looks at Kit, twelve years old, so _so_ fucking smart and driven and as dead as a proverbial doornail. “When did you figure that out?”  
  
Kit looks at him, those bright brown flicking back and forth, studying the white lenses of his mask. Kyle raises his hand and waves away the mask in a blink of fading, glittery green. Brown eyes widen and Kit moves closer until his shoulder brushes against Kyle’s. “I always knew that. It’s the only thing I can actually remember. I’m surprised you didn’t come to that conclusion sooner.”  
  
He shrugs. “It’s less of coming to a conclusion and more of sympathetic avoidance. No one wants to tell a child they’ll never grow up.”  
  
“Depends on the kid, I think Peter Pan and the Lost Boys didn’t mind that much.” Kit shrugs. “I can fly, practically do everything Peter can.”  
  
“But you aren’t a fictional character, you’re a _real_ kid.”  
  
“Apparently real kids die and come back to life more than once. Fully grown men too, if you count Mr. Jordan.”  
  
Kyle scrunches his nose. “Don’t call him _Mr. Jordan,_ that sounds so weird. He’s just Hal.”  
  
“And I’m just Kit. Not dead kid, Kit, not oh-poor-and-tragic Kit, just Kit. Black and White Lantern, defender of the universe, with two annoying foster dads.”  
  
Kyle’s frown softens. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch. Two would mean that Guy and I would have to agree to co-parent. It would all get pretty messy, I think. I’d probably only get to see you on Sundays.”  
  
Now it’s Kit’s turn to smile. Bright and wide and blinding, with a little laugh behind his teeth as he bumps Kyle’s shoulder with his. It dies down a moment later, just a light exhale of breath when Kit finally purses his lips together. “I appreciate it though, really. Everything you’ve done since you found me. You didn’t have to, you know. I’m sure the rings would have found me someone appropriate, some Yoda on a distant and empty planet. But it’s nice, I mean, having someone care about you _because_ they just do.”  
  
It’s impossible for him not to wrap his arm around Kit’s shoulder and pull him in closer. “You had a life before this, everyone does. There is someone else out there who cares and _misses_ you. Someone you could go back to, live the life you’re supposed to.”  
  
Kit’s eyes are a warm brown when they find his, glittering with gathering wetness that clumps his lashes together before he hurriedly wipes his eyes. There’s an apology on the verge of his lips, suddenly feeling quite bad for bringing up something so unlikely when Kit hugs him tight.  
  
He buries his face right into Kyle’s chest and shakes for a long moment, fingers digging into his uniform while muffled whimpers slip past his lips. Now he’s made a child cry. Great, good job, Rayner. The path to Hell is truly paved with good intentions. It’s instinctual to wrap his arms back around Kit, tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone before, and mumble against his hair.  
  
“I don’t mean to be so hard on you, Kit, I don’t. You’re _incredible._ It’s a lot to ask someone, to wield a white ring, even more, to be forced to use them _both._ I’m just scared. Scared that one day I won’t be there to help you and I can’t stop what either ring might force you to do. Guy too, even with all that posturing.” It’s impossible not to realize how attached he has become to Kit, either of them. Kyle can hardly remember a day that goes by without Kit’s awkward and charming smile when he finally manages to figure out another trick with his ring. If something were to happen to Kit, something they could have prevented by pushing him just a _little harder_ in training, he’d never forgive himself.  
  
“I will always be there for you, I mean it, Kit, you’re stuck with me now. Probably, Guy too, and unfortunately, there’s a no return policy on that. Final sale and all that.”  
  
Kit snorts, wet and snotty, probably blowing out a great wad of boogers on the front of his green suit. If anything it makes him want to hold Kit tighter than anything. He’s really gotten soft.  
  
Kit looks up at him, a hand coming up to rub his runny nose and stray tears with a little, quiet laugh. “Ditto.”  
  
It’s going to be hard. Kit, despite his intelligence and his willingness to push himself, doesn’t relate well to others. He’s awkward and shy and being dead certainly doesn’t help with any of that. Kyle can get angry and impatient and Guy, certainly has the same negative traits, despite their attempts to be understanding. It’s going to take weeks, maybe months, to learn the pitfalls and strengths of each other to be able to come together as a team.  
  
Kyle doesn’t mind it. In fact, the more they work together, the happier he is he let go of the ring.  
  
Mostly, because it gave someone who really deserved it a second chance.  



End file.
